


Love is a Battlefield

by Mordhena



Series: A Grief Observed [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cheating Dean Winchester, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Violence, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: You're beggin' me to go, you're makin' me stayWhy do you hurt me so bad?It would help me to knowDo I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?Believe me, believe me, I can't tell you whyBut I'm trapped by your love, and I'm chained to your sideWe Are Young - Pat Benatar"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does.Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."~James Arthur Baldwin





	1. Running Interference

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haggitha](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Haggitha).



> ** Warning: This story depicts an incestuous relationship. It may contain gay sex and sexual references, violence and coarse language. If any of those things are a personal no-go, then by all means, don't read it. **

Missouri got out of the chair in her reading room, and made her way out to the living area. She'd been unable to give her undivided attention to her last sitter, and it was bothering her. Some kind of energy had interfered, distracting her. Her sitter, a regular fortunately, had understood cutting the session short and asking if she should come back some other time.  
  
Walking into the living room, Missouri stopped dead in her tracks and laid a hand over her heart. "Lord'a'mercy! You tryin' to kill me dead, chile?" She stared at the spirit of a young, blonde woman who stood in her path. "Jessica." It was a statement of fact, no doubt at all. "Is Sammy in trouble?"  
  
Jessica took a step forward, reaching one hand out to Missouri and began to speak in rapid, garbled words.  
  
"Now just you slow down and get a hold of yourself, honey," Missouri said. "I can't make out more'n a word or two of what you're sayin'." She moved to the sofa and eased her frame down on it. "Now, concentrate," Missouri said. "One thought at a time." She closed her eyes, centering her attention on the young woman and attuning her senses to what Jessica was trying to tell her.  
  
"Hmm," Missouri said after a few moments of silent concentration. "Sam and Dean are in trouble." She nodded. "What kind of trouble?" She waited. "Danger, soda…" Missouri frowned. "I'm not getting' that part." A few moments of silence and a map began to take form in Missouri's mind. "Ah. Minnesota?" She nodded, focused on the words Jessica was saying, along with images the spirit sent to her mind.  
  
"All right," She said at length. "I'll do what I can, but you're going to have to help." Missouri got up and made her way to the telephone, her finger stabbing at a number scrawled on a scrap of paper above the telephone table. She drew a deep breath and began to dial. "Bobby?" Missouri said when the phone on the other end was picked up. "It's Missouri, hon-now there's no time for chit-chat. Listen quick."  
  
"Sam and Dean are headin' for Minnesota," Missouri said into the phone, and they've got a mess of trouble chasin' them." She outlined as well as she could, the details Jessica had given her, including some clues about how to find the boys and then she hung up.   
  
Turning to Jessica, Missouri took a deep breath. "You're gonna have to run interference," she said. "Bobby can't get to Minnesota until tomorrow, even if he exceeds the speed limit in every county on the way." She paused. "I don't know what you're going to do. Figure it out, you're a smart girl! Just delay them any way you can. Go!"  
  
  
\--  
  
"Damn we got a flat!" Dean stared at the rear tire as though it was the personal embodiment of all things evil. With a muttered curse, he went to the trunk, digging for the jack. "I thought I told you to check the pressure at our last stop!" He shot Sam a withering glance.  
  
"I did," Sam replied. "It was good." He didn't catch Dean's muttered reply and was not sure he wanted to know what his brother said, anyway. "Can I help?"  
  
"I got it." Dean loosened the wheel nuts and then raised the car on the jack.  
  
Half an hour later they were back on the road, Sam scanning through a travel guide to Minneapolis looking for a cheap motel.  
  
The drive from Minocqua took a little over four hours and Dean pulled the Impala into the hotel just on sunset. He waited in the car while Sam booked them a room.  
  
"Room seventeen," Sam told him, climbing back into the car. He dropped the room key into Dean's lap. "The guy said they offer a continental breakfast, can get milk from the office. There's a diner he recommends just as you get into the downtown area."  
  
Dean nodded, rolling the car down the courtyard, looking for room seventeen. "I'm for a shower, and then we can grab a bite to eat, if you want." He stopped outside their room and cut the engine.  
  
"Yeah," Sam agreed as he climbed out of the car. He grabbed his duffel from the back seat of the car and waited while Dean unlocked the room.  
  
Stepping inside, Sam recoiled almost immediately, a hand going to his head as he cried out with pain. "Guh!" Sam doubled over, his knees buckling. "Ugh!" White hot pain sliced through his head, just above his right eye, a sick wave of vertigo slammed into him, along with an unreasoning sense of panic. "Dean!"  
  
"Sammy?" Dean was by his side, grabbing Sam's arms and supporting him. "What is it?"  
  
"Pain," Sam gasped. "God-my head!" And as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped. Sam shook his head, panting for breath and straightened up. "It's-gone," he said, puzzled.  
  
"What, no visions? Nothin'?"  
  
"Nothing like…" Sam trailed off with a cry as the air in the room seemed to shiver with some kind of impact. Both brothers were thrown to the floor with the force of it, unable to move as the shuddering accompanied by a low, rumbling sound continued for a few moments.  
  
"What the fuck was that?" Dean lifted his head slowly from the floor, half expecting to be knocked down again, once the shaking had stopped.  
  
"Hell if I know," Sam replied. He got to his knees and picked up the laptop bag, which had slipped from his shoulder when he was knocked down. "I don't remember drinkin' anything that could do that." He grinned as he helped Dean to his feet.  
  
Dean shook his head, making his way to the motel room door. "No one else seems to've noticed anything," he said. He turned back to Sam.  
  
"Dean, you don't just get a tremor in one room!" Sam said.  
  
"I know, but life's just going on as usual out there, see for yourself."  
  
Both brothers almost jumped out of their shoes when the radio above the bed roared into life.  
  
"Fuck!" Dean yelled. He bolted for the radio, trying to shut it off. "What the hell's goin on here!"  
  
"I think we booked into a haunted…" Sam cringed as the volume on the radio only got louder. "For God's sakes, turn that thing off!"  
  
"I'm tryin'!" Dean yelled over the radio. "It won't…"  
  
Get out! The voice spoke indistinctly from the radio, the music all but drowning it out. "Get out, now!"  
  
Dean frowned and hunkered down in front of the radio. "EVP," Dean said. "You might be right, Sam." He straightened. "I'm gonna get the weapons."  
  
As Dean moved towards the door, a rush of wind swirled through the room, the lights flickered. The same voice that had spoken over the radio said: "Out! Get out!"  
  
Sam frowned, deciding the best course of action was to follow his brother. He didn't want to be alone in this room, unarmed. "I'm going with you!" he said, receiving no argument from Dean.  
  
As soon as they were outside the room, the door slammed behind them and remained stubbornly closed despite their best efforts to open it.  
  
Dean stood back from the door after throwing himself at it repeatedly to no avail and looked at Sam. "So, now what?"  
  
"Half our gear is in the room," Sam said. "My computer's in there, man!" He frowned and put a hand on the door knob, shaking it. "Fuck!"  
  
"Right, that does it," Dean swung around and headed to the trunk of the Impala, digging through the weapons case for sage, salt, rock salt pellets and the sawed off shotgun. He went back to Sam. "Let's try round back."  
  
Nodding, Sam followed his brother to the back of the motel block. Locating the windows that corresponded to their room, Dean tried the sliding glass door.   
  
"Stay out!" The ghostly voice intoned. "Out!"  
  
Sam frowned. "Someone sure doesn't want us in there," he said, earning a 'ya think?' look from his brother. "I'm just sayin' maybe we should take her at her word."  
  
"I wanna at least get our stuff back," Dean replied. "We can find another motel after that, if you want."  
  
"Okay." Sam nodded and at that moment, the door Dean was trying to jimmy open slid back of its own accord.  
  
After exchanging glances, the brothers walked inside.   
  
"All right," Sam said. "Let's get our stuff and get out."


	2. Calm Before

"I'm tellin' you Sam, I'm getting real tired of this crap," Dean growled.  
  
The brothers stood outside the room they'd just booked in the third hotel they'd tried since the ghostly voice had warned them off. Sam carried his lap top his duffel and one hold-all, while Dean was loaded down with his duffel, the first aid kit and the bag of weapons.   
  
"I'm gonna blast anythin' that moves in here." Dean put the key into the door and pushed stepped into the room.   
  
"You can't do that," Sam followed Dean inside and dropped the bags to the floor.

Dean turned an incredulous face to him.

"I mean, this spirit, whatever it is, hasn't tried to hurt us, Dean. She's just been warning us. She's had two chances now and…" Sam held out his hands in a 'look at us' gesture. "There's not a scratch on us."  
  
"I just want a shower, some dinner, and sleep, Sam, is that too much to ask?" Dean shook his head. "Naw-anything happens here, I'm shootin' first and apologizin' later!"    
  
"Everything's fine," Sam said after a moment. "Go shower. I'll smudge the room, just to be sure, and then I'll lay the salt lines." He waited until Dean set down the weapons bag and went into the bathroom and then he dug out a jar of sage and the salt canister. Sam tipped a handful of sage out of the jar and put it on a saucer which he found on top of the mini bar. He took a box of matches from his pocket and set the sage alight, waving his hand through the resultant smoke.   
  
"This sage is cleansing out all negative energies and spirits," he murmured, "All negative energies and spirits must leave this place through the windows and not return." He left the sage smoldering on a table and then picked up the salt can and salted the doors and windows.   
  
  
  
"In the name of the goddess, this room is now cleansed." He ended the ritual by lighting a white candle that he took from one of the bags. "The light from this candle lights your path and seals the door to this world."   
  
Sam moved to sit on the bed. He pulled off his boots and socks, frowning in thought about the events of the past few hours.  
  
In all his years of hunting with John and Dean, they'd never been attacked in their motel rooms before. Granted the one in Windsor was due to their own carelessness with not salting the doors, but never in all the years, had a spirit appeared to be waiting for them in their room before they'd even arrived. Sam pushed a hand through his dark hair and blew out a breath. ' _I'm beat_ ,' he thought. The encounters had seemed to take energy from him. Sam took off his hoodie and slung it over the back of a chair. He glanced up as Dean emerged from the bathroom, hips swathed in a towel and vigorously scrubbing his hair dry with another.  
  
"Dean," Sam said. "These spooks, they're seeking us out."  
  
His brother stilled for a moment, glancing at him, and then resumed drying his hair. "We don't know that," Dean said.  
  
"The hell we don't!"  
  
"Okay, so a few times they've showed up where we are, but…"  
  
"Dean, I told you before, this is something new-the rules have changed, bro."  
  
"So what if they have? Not much we can do, is there, Sam?" Dean gave him a level stare and then went to get fresh clothes out of his bag.  
  
"Do?" Sam pushed the heavy bangs out of his eyes. "We do what we do-send them back." He heard Dean let out a sigh. "We just need to be more vigilant," he said.  
  
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "and stay put." He laughed. "Why waste gas and wear and tear on my car, if they're findin' us anyway?"  
  
"It's him, you know?" Sam murmured.  
  
"No, Sam. That we don't know!"  
  
"C'mon, Dean, it has to be. Miriam told you she was working for her father."  
  
"Miriam was a first class bitch, and a demon. They don't tell the truth, Sam."  
"Dean, they set us up when they tried to infect me with the Croatoan virus. How much more _proof_ do you need?"

 

  
  
Dean shook his head and turned away with a sigh. The truth was, he agreed with Sam, but he didn't want to confront it right now. It was bad enough knowing that the yellow eyed demon had some sick plan about Sam that they didn't understand, but thinking that the demons or spirits or whatever were deliberately coming after them-after  _Sam-_  was more than he could handle just now.  
  
"Hey," Sam said quietly. "Come here."  
  
Dean let Sam pull him into his arms. _I don't know what to do,_  he thought. _God, Dad, why'd you have to leave us to face this alone?_  Aloud, he said. "I'm so tired, Sam."  
  
"You know Dad told you that I was special, that I was going to be part of this war that's coming," Sam said. "But it's _you_ that's suffering, Dean." Dean shook his head, but Sam went on. "It's you they're targeting. I don't know what to do to help."  
  
"I don't know if you can, Sammy. They're targeting me, to get to you." He shivered a little. "They're tryin' to push me to hurt you." Dean closed his eyes. "Meg tried to get me to kill you that time she possessed you-Miriam wanted me to hurt you."  
  
"And if you did-hurt me-I mean?"  
  
"I won't!" Miriam said-she told me that you're…" Dean trailed off with a frown.  
  
Sam drew a deep breath. "I'm what?"  
  
"She-you're flawed, she said. She-he-wants you dead because you're flawed." Dean looked up, meeting his brother's eyes. "Whatever it is that he's got planned? I think you might be the one thing he didn't bargain for. Dad taught us both a lot. I think you know too much, Sam. That makes you a threat."  
  
"Dad never taught me anything about this, Dean! Fuck, he didn't even tell me _half_ the shit he told you."  
  
"He taught you enough, Sammy. You know more than any of the other 'special' kids we've met."  
  
"I'm surviving this because of you, Dean. That's the only reason I'm not dead."  
  
"And I plan to make sure it stays that way!" Dean leaned in and captured Sam's lips with his own.  
  
"I only cope with being different because you're covering my back," Sam said.  
  
"We're a team, babe."   
  
Sam pulled away, rubbed his eyes turning his back. "A flawed freak. Fuck!" His breath hitched.   
  
"I'm sorry." Dean laid a hand on Sam's arm. "I shouldn't have said anythin'. You got enough to deal with."  
  
"Sometimes, Dean, I wish I had died in that fire, or that I just hadn't been born in the first place," Sam said quietly.  
  
"Don't talk like that!" Dean pulled Sam to face him. "We'll get through this, or-die tryin'."  
  
"I could get you _killed_ , Dean."  
  
Dean scoffed. "Yeah, and I could get myself killed. That's comes with the territory."  
  
"But you have your mind on so many other things. It's what he's doing, Dean. Wearing you down, distracting you." Sam moved to the window, looking out.  
  
"Yeah, well there's no changin' it, is there? So, we deal." Dean moved to the bed, palming his face with both hands. 

  
Sam watched him. "You look beat. Why don't you try get some sleep?"  
  
"Huh," Dean said softly. "I used to know what sleep was." He looked up at Sam. "Lie down with me. I-wanna have you close to me."  
  
Sam moved to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it off. He took off his jeans and laid down next to Dean wearing only his boxers. "I'm not going anywhere." He pulled Dean into his arms, carding his fingers through short hair. "Close your eyes."  
  
The beat of Sam's heart under Dean's ear was soothing. Steady and strong. Dean let out a breath, slipping one arm across Sam's waist as he hitched closer. He hummed with pleasure as Sam's fingers traced lazy patterns on is back.  
  
"No one's gonna make you hurt me," Sam whispered. "No one _could_ make you hurt me, because I know you love me."  
  
"More than my own life, Sammy," Dean whispered. _I need you to stay alive, Sam_ , Dean thought. _Got no one else left_. Silent tears edged from under Dean's eyelids.  
  
"I know. I know," Sam murmured, stroking Dean's hair, his other hand tracing protective sigils on the smooth skin of his brothers back until the deep even breathing told him Dean was asleep.


	3. War is Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of **sibling Incest**. If that is a no-go for you, please do not read it.
> 
> * * *

Somewhere in the darkest hours before the dawn, Sam woke. He'd been dreaming, but he couldn't remember what about, only the frantic beating of his heart, and the cold sweat telling him it had been a nightmare. He stirred a little, looking around the darkened room. Dean lay with his back to Sam, on the other side of the bed. He had kicked off the bedclothes and Sam reached to pull the covers back over him.   
  
"You'll get a chill," he warned his sleeping brother.   
  
Getting out of bed, Sam made his way into the bathroom to use the john and then washed his hands, splashing water on his face to clear the last vestiges of nightmare. He walked back to the main room and set the kettle to boil. Unlike his brother, Sam was not averse to drinking instant coffee, or tea. He flipped the laptop open and waited for it to boot while he steeped a tea bag in hot water.   
  
Dean grunted and rolled over and Sam moved to sit on the bed, watching as Dean slept. He smiled. Dean's face looked so young and vulnerable when he slept. A contrast to the 'game face' he knew his brother kept firmly in place in his waking ours.   
  
Sam reached out, stroking a finger along the shell of Dean's ear, chuckling when his brother screwed up his nose and turned his head. Leaning in, he kissed Dean's cheek.  
  
Eyes closed, Dean sighed and stretched. "It can't be time to wake up," he muttered.  
  
"It's early." Sam smiled. He leaned in to kiss Dean's lips when his brother rolled onto his back. "I just couldn't resist, sorry."  
  
"No need to apologize, babe," Dean said. He blinked his eyes open. "How long was I out?"  
  
"Four hours," Sam replied. He stroked the side of Dean's face. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Still a little tired." Dean yawned. "I could kill a long black."  
  
"I've just boiled the kettle," Sam replied. "I can do instant?" He made his way over to the kettle as he spoke. "I was thinking that maybe we should go speak to the parents of that kid, Justin."  
  
"Uh-huh," Dean replied. He rolled out of bed, sat up, scrubbing both palms over his face.  
  
"And maybe speak to the cops who investigated when that girl hanged herself?"  
  
"Yeah, whatever you think, Sam."   
  
Sam spooned coffee into a mug. Her family moved to Pittsburgh, after she died," he said. He carried the mug to the bed, handed it to Dean.  
  
Taking the coffee, Dean sipped it. He yawned and scratched his chest with one hand, then glanced at Sam.  
  
"The family name is Press. Jasmine was seventeen when she hanged herself in the bathroom at the bus depot."  
  
"Pretty young to be hurtin' bad enough to want to off herself, wouldn't you think?"  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You think we got a monopoly on teenaged angst?" He moved to sit next to his brother. "Jasmine and Justin-sweet names," he mused.  
  
"Hmm," Dean replied. He took another mouthful of coffee.  
  
"Listen, why don't you leave the girl to me-I'll see if I can get a hold of her family."  
  
Dean glanced at him. "Where did you say they moved to?"  
  
"Pittsburgh," Sam said. "Just need to find what they did with her remains. "Should be pretty straight forward from there, find the bones and burn them. Case closed."  
  
Dean took another sip of his coffee. "Y'know this is not bad, for instant."  
  
"That's because I made it so strong you can't taste it."  
  
"I could get to Pittsburgh and back in three days, tops. You could see what you can find out at this end about Justin's disappearance. Makes sense to split up. We can work faster."  
  
"No." Dean's expression was set, and his tone was final. "There's no need to split up. We can contact her folks by phone or email them."  
  
"Oh yeah, sure, Dean-Pick up the phone and say, 'Hi, I heard your daughter strung herself up, can you tell me why and by the way, did you bury or burn her?" Sam scoffed. "I'd hang up on something like that!"  
  
  
"Somethin' like that," Dean said. "Except I know you'd be more tactful. Hell, you can probably find out what they did with the remains by checking town records." He shook his head. "We're not separating, Sam."  
  
"Dean, come on. There are some things you just have to do in person," Sam persisted.   
  
"Sam, I said no! Now there's an end to it."  
  
"I'll be back before you know I'm gone. What's your problem?" Sam frowned at him.  
  
"I'm not lettin' you outta my sight," Dean said. "Things are getting' too dangerous." He swallowed hard. "The last time you went off alone, you killed a hunter. They're gunnin' for you already and…" He shook his head at Sam's glare. "You can give me the death glare all you want, Sammy. The answer's no."  
  
"I already took on a hunter and survived!" Sam got to his feet, pacing. "I've killed one, and gotten one locked up. I think I can fucking look after myself!"  
  
"Yeah? If I hadn't showed up when I did in Lafayette? You'd be dead, Sam! Gordon had a bead on you, and he was gonna keep puttin' bullets through that window 'til he finished you!"  
  
"Well, maybe you shouldn't have bothered!" Sam rounded on him. "If I remember it right, _I_ got _your_ ass out of that one!"  
  
"That's just it, Sam!" Dean got to his feet too, facing his brother down. "We work together, or we don't work at all. Dad drummed that into us over and over, growin up! 'Never hunt alone-a lone hunter's a dead hunter. I don't give a shit how anyone else works. This is us, this is what we do!"  
  
"All right, then we'll go to Pittsburgh together."  
  
"I just don't see the need, Sam. Why bother the parents in the first place? The ghost is here, the boyfriend disappeared from here. We can get what we need from the city records." He frowned.  
  
"You know what? Screw this." Sam grabbed his duffel and slapped the laptop closed, shoving it into its bag. "I'll be back in three days." He spun around to face Dean when his brother stepped forward to snatch the bags from him. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"You walk out that door without me, Sammy, and it'll be the last time you see me! You hear me? You walk out that door, you don't ever come back!"  
  
Icy silence descended on them. They stared at each other as the past echoed all around them.  
  
Dean gulped, pressing his lips together in a thin line and took a backwards step.  
  
"Fuck!" Sam's face drained of color. "Well, shit, Dean. That was fucking word for word perfect!" He shook his head as Dean turned away, muttering something unintelligible.   
  
"Shit-shit!" Dean sank down on a chair and dropped his head into his hands.  
  
The silence draws so tight it hums like high tensile steel. A guitar string tuned to breaking point.

  
"I'll go," Dean said, barely above a whisper. He glanced at Sam. "I'll go to Pittsburgh with you." He got up, taking clean clothes from his bag and grabbed a towel off the end of the second, unused bed. He headed into the bathroom, slamming the door with enough force to rival a poltergeist.  
  
Sam winced and closed his eyes. _Not like I made them move to Pittsburgh_ , he thought, casting a baleful glance at the bathroom door. _Why are you so afraid of going there, anyway-got some ghosts that still need laying?_  He sighed and pulled the laptop out of its bag, flipping it open.  
  
Opening a browser, Sam lost himself for a few minutes in researching what he could find on the internet about Jasmine Press and her missing boyfriend.  
  
He glanced up when Dean emerged from the bathroom. "I found some more information," Sam said. "There's an interview with Justin in a back issue of the local paper. He says that he saw his girlfriend after she died at the bus depot and that she was begging for his help. I've got the kid's address. I thought maybe we could say we're doing an article on inexplicably high numbers of missing kids in this area?" Sam watched as Dean pulled on a pair of shorts, his back to Sam. "Dean?"  
  
"That's my name."  
  
"Uh-" Sam bit his lip and then he said. "I'm sorry, about before. I shouldn't have pushed it." He sighed. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Dean moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He met Sam's eyes. "I said I'll go with you to Pittsburgh."  
  
"Well…" Sam frowned. "Maybe you're right. We could try and find out what we can here. Only go to Pittsburgh if we can't figure it out on this end."  
  
"Sure, whatever."   
  
"Dean…" Sam shook his head in confusion. "Man somethin's sure crawled up your ass today!"  
  
"I'm sorry." Dean stepped forward, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm a little on edge-shouldn't be takin' it out on you."  
  
"A little on edge?" Sam scoffed. "I feel like I've been walking on eggshells for a week!"  
  
Dean sighed. "I don't mean for it to be like this." He closed his eyes.  
  
"I know." Sam reached up, laid his hands on Dean's hips, looking up at his brother. "I..." His gaze slid downwards, his hands moving to the button of Dean's jeans.  
  
"Please, Sam," Dean whispered, but Sam couldn't tell if that was an assent or not. He bit his lip, praying he was right, ahe unbuttoned the jeans, slid the zipper down and then eased the blue denim down over Dean's hips. He glanced upwards, seeking assurance.

Dean's eyes were hooded, dark with lust. He stared down at Sam.

"Is this for me?" Sam freed  Dean's cock and leaned in, flicking his tongue across the weeping tip. He took the hard member into his mouth, pulling Dean to the back of his throat, listening to the soft moans of pleasure that fell from his brother's lips.

 

* * *

  
  
"Fuck," Dean whispered. He let his hands fall to Sam's head, fingers tangling in silky dark hair as Sam's mouth moved slowly up and down the shaft of his cock. He met Sam's eyes when his brother pulled back, letting Dean out of his mouth with a soft pop and then put out his tongue to tease the tip. "Guh, Sammy!" Dean bit his lip. "So good!" He couldn't last long and he knew it. Dean growled his need, pulling Sam closer. "Suck me, babe, please!" He threw his head back with a cry and closed his eyes as Sam swallowed him again and began to suck him determinedly.  
  
"Sammm!" Dean's fingers twisted in dark hair and his knees buckled. He jerked forward uncontrollably when teeth gently scraped along his length. "God! Gonna…" Dean bit down on his lip, back arching, hips jerking convulsively as Sam pulled the climax from him, swallowing his seed with a hum of pleasure.  
  
"God." Dean went to his knees on the floor, pulling Sam into his arms. "Sorry," he whispered. He buried his face against Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It doesn't matter, Dean." Sam said. He cupped Dean's face in his hands, their foreheads pressed together. "We're okay. I know you don't want to go to Pittsburgh, and I understand." He swallowed hard. "We don't have to go." He kissed Dean and then got to his feet. "I'm gonna grab a shower."  
  
"It's not that I don't want to go." Dean got up, reaching to pull his jeans back up. "I said I'll go." He took a step forward, following Sam. "I…" He trailed off as the door was closed firmly in his face. "Sam!"  
  
Dean huffed a breath,  listening to the splash of water from the shower. He started to pack. He didn't know why Sam had gotten so pissed off all of a sudden, and he sure as hell wasn't looking forward to spending the day driving around with a pissy little snot who wouldn't talk to him above what was absolutely necessary. Dean sat on the bed and stared at the bathroom door. No. Fuck it. They were going to have this out right here, right now, and they weren't leaving this room until they did.  


* * *

  
  
Sam closed the bathroom door firmly in his brother's face. He was done talking about this shit now. He was sick of Dean using the tired and on-edge argument, as if Dean had a monopoly on tired and on-edge, fuck it. Sam was just as tired, he was just as edgy, he was just as fucking scared-no probably more scared and he just couldn't take anymore of Dean's excuses and lies. He turned the shower on, hotter than he could really stand it, and stepped under the spray.  
  
Sam licked his lips, still tasting Dean's come in his mouth. Suddenly, it made him feel used and dirty and cheap. He opened his mouth, letting the hot water flow over his lips and tongue before he swished and then spat the water out. Reaching for the soap he began to scrub his skin.  
  
It hit him with sickening ferocity, white-hot, blinding pain bursting behind his eyes. The vision slammed into his mind, tearing with the razor edge of a finely honed hunting knife. Sam groaned, retched and slumped against the wall. He was outside and it was dark-a car park was the impression he got, outside some shabby looking pub in ass-fuck nowhere. Sam looked around, trying to gather as much detail as he could. He'd learned from these visions. Details were important. He didn't see the two men until a soft moan of need drew his attention to them. One of them leaned against the wall in the shadows; the other was on his knees in front of the first. He couldn't see very well for the shadows but he knew. The man leaning against the wall, his head thrown back in the throes of pleasure, was Dean.  
  
Sam felt a knife twist in his heart as he watched. Dean's hands were tangled into shaggy blonde hair and he was moaning.   
  
"Yeah," Dean panted. "Like that, baby, keep it going. So close, fuck-Sammy has a lot to learn."  
  
Sam wanted to look away, wanted to _get_ away, but he was frozen to the spot. He startled, spinning around when a silken voice spoke at his side.  
  
"Your brother has quite the appetite, doesn't he?" The yellow eyed man of Sam's nightmares and his waking hours since John died smirked at him. "Hello, baby-boy."  
  
"This isn't real. Dean wouldn't…"  
  
"Oh but he would," The demon gave him a pitying smile. "Have I ever lied to you, Samuel? I've been talking to you since you were what-seven? Everything I ever told you has come true."  
  
With a sound of denial, Sam turned back to the scene playing out before them. He watched as the blonde pulled back to lap at the tip of Dean's cock.  
  
"Fuck, yeah!" Dean panted. "So fucking good! I should have you give him lessons."  
  
"Dean's appetite makes him such an easy target," The demon murmured. "He gets so distracted, you see."  
  
"No! This-Dean he doesn't need anyone, he's got me!" Sam shook his head. "Why are you showing me this?" Hot tears stung his eyes.  
  
"Watch, you'll see."  
  
Sam's eyes were dragged back to the scene. Dean's head was thrown back, exposing his throat, the cords of his neck standing out as he strained towards climax. "Come on, baby-guh!" Dean arched his back, his hips thrusting forward, driving his cock to the back of the blonde's throat. He came, screaming "Fuuuuck!" Just the way he had done with Sam so many times.  
  
Blinking back tears, Sam could only watch, helpless, meeting the fathomless black eyes of the young blonde as he turned his face towards Sam for a moment. "God, no!" Sam groaned. He saw the flash of a dagger in the guys hand as he got to his feet, violently slashing the blade across Dean's vulnerable throat.  
  
"God, Dean." He sobbed, watching his brother grab at his throat, choking on his own blood, slowly sinking to his knees. "Dean-no-no-no-no!"  
  
"Stop this!" Sam turned to the yellow eyed demon.   
  
"Oh, but it's just getting interesting…" The demon gave him a look that was a parody of disappointment, as though he'd been asked to shut off a favorite TV show.   
  
With one last, rattling breath, Dean Winchester slumped lifeless to the ground.   
  
The young blonde looked up from where he stood over Dean's body, the dagger slowly dripping Dean's blood onto the ground.  
  
"He wouldn't do that." Sam pleaded. "Dean loves me."  
  
"But really, you honestly think that you're enough to keep him satisfied?" The demon shook his head. "He just can't settle. It's a sad legacy passed down from John to Dean. Take a good look, Samuel." The demon pointed at the killer. "Remember."  
  
The vision faded and Sam dropped to his knees in the shower stall, retching, tears flooding down his cheeks. 'Fuck, I know that guys face,' Sam thought. 'I've seen him somewhere before.' He closed his eyes, the delicate features of the possessed man dancing before his minds eye. "Shit! He's the guy from the gas station." He got up, shutting off the water. Sam staggered out of the shower, grabbed a towel. "Dean!"

 


	4. On the front lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING** : Suicide. Please don't read if it will trigger you.
> 
> * * *

Hearing Sam calling from the bathroom, Dean got up and went to the door. "Sam?" He knocked quietly, listening for any sounds from the other side. "Sammy?"  
  
The bathroom door swung open and Sam was staring at him, pale, shaken his pupils blown so wide that his eyes appeared black. Dean put a hand on Sam's arm. "I heard-are you…"  
  
"I've never been enough, have I?" Sam's eyes flooded with tears and his breath hitched.  
  
"What?" Dean shook his head in confusion. "What're you talkin' about?"  
  
"Have I, Dean? How many? Do you fuck them?"  
  
"Sam what the hell's gotten into you?" Dean frowned at his brother. "You seriously need…"  
  
"Oh God!" Sam pushed past dean with a sob. "You do, he told me." He swung around as Dean tried to grab his arm. "I saw you, you sonofabitch!" He yelled. "I saw you with that guy on his knees, just before he slit your throat!"  
  
Dean blinked, staring dumbfounded at Sam for a moment. He didn't know what the hell was going through Sam's head. All he knew was he didn't like whatever Sam was implying.

"You're seriously startin' to piss me off!" Dean said. "I think I would've noticed if someone slit my throat recently!" He swung away from Sam pacing the room and then came back to stand face to face with Sam. "What guy? I haven't been with anyone else since- _Fuck_ , Sam!"  
  
"I saw it! I saw it happen, Dean!" Sam murmured  
  
"What, you mean you had a vision?"  
  
"It's gonna happen because you have your cock half way down some demon's throat."  
  
"Oh that's just fucking terrific!" Dean gave a bark of angry laughter. "It's not enough for you to bitch constantly about my past, now you hafta start in on stuff I haven't even done yet?" He threw his hands up in frustration. "I don't believe you!"  
  
"You know what? Fuck you, Dean! I don't give a fuck if you believe me or not!"  
  
"I believe you're a few M&Ms short of a packet," Dean snapped.

  
Sam shoved Dean aside and moved to his duffel looking for clean clothes.

Dean let out a breath. "Fuck, I always knew you were a jealous son of a bitch, but this goes fucking beyond all!"  
  
"Jealous?" Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean. "You've gotta be kidding! Why would I be jealous over a tramp like you?"  
  
Dean lunged, slamming Sam against a wall, pinning him there. "What'd you call me?"  
  
"I called you a tramp," Sam grunted and then gave a small cry of pain when Dean's hand closed on his throat, fingers and thumb digging into his flesh.  
  
"I ought to break your scrawny neck and be done with you!" Dean hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm no tramp!"  
  
Sam lifted his chin struggling to catch a breath. "Do it," he muttered.  
  
"Fuck you!" Dean pushed away from Sam and grabbed his car keys.  
  
"That's right, run away from the truth!" Sam yelled. "He showed me, Dean! He showed me what you've been doing!"  
  
"I haven't done _anything_!"  
  
"He showed me!" Sam trembled with rage and hurt. "I stood and watched. He said it wasn't the first time!"   
  
"I don't give a fuck what some fucking demon said! It's not true!"  
  
"Everything I see, Dean, has come true!"  
  
"So, you'll just take the word of a demon over mine!"  
  
"Everything he ever made me see has been a vision of what's going to happen," Sam insisted. "You might not've done anything yet, but you will!"  
  
"Oh well, since it's all so cut and dried-destiny-carved in stone-I might as well go find this guy and get it over with!" Dean yelled.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why settle for a blow job? Maybe I should fuck his brains out, before he cuts my throat, I mean since it's my sealed fate and all!" He headed for the door. "There's no dodging fate, Sammy."

Sam grabbed his arm. "God, don't you do this to me, Dean." He choked.  
  
"What d'you want from me?" Dean got up in Sam's face. "I can't do anything right by you, can I?"  
  
"Look, please just stay here!" Sam's hands fisted into the front of Dean's shirt and his eyes held a desperate light "I don't care if there have been others-he's going to kill you-stay, Dean! Everything is fine, okay? I'm fine, you're fine." He sobbed, pulling Dean closer. "Just _stay_!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, FINE!" Dean growled. It's all fine as long as F-I-N-E means 'freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional!"   
  
"I don't want to see this stuff," Sam said. "I don't fucking ask for it!"  
  
"You know what? I've had enough of _fine_!" Dean turned to leave. "You can't keep me here!" He shoved Sam away when his brother stepped in front of him.  
  
They both froze for a moment when someone thumped on the wall that joined their room to the next, yelling that it was 5AM and some people were trying to sleep.  
  
"Dean, please," Sam murmured. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "He told me I'm not enough."  
  
"Oh, and of course, you believe that" Dean rolled his eyes. " _Demons_ never lie, unlike your lowdown trash brother."  
  
"Please don't make him be right." Sam begged.  
  
"If he told you I dress in drag and sing karaoke on Friday nights, you'd probably believe that, too!"  
  
"No, I wouldn't. What I need to believe it that something might try to slit your throat, tonight!"  
  
"If that's what rocks your world, babe, you go right ahead," Dean said. "I need a coffee, now are you gonna let me out, or do I have to take you down?" Sam took a step closer to him. "Don't push me, Sammy."  
  
"Show me how you like it," Sam murmured. He passed his tongue across his lips, his mind flashing back to the vision and Dean telling the blonde guy how he likes having his dick sucked.  
  
  
  
  
Dean sighed with frustration and closed his eyes when Sam went to his knees in front of him. "Fuck," he whispered. He pulled away sharply when one of Sam's hands brushed across the front of his jeans.  
  
 "I can learn," Sam whispered.  
  
"God, Sam, no-not like that!" Dean turned away, pushing a hand through his short hair.   
  
Sam came after him, purring. "Please, Dean. Teach me how you like it."  
  
"Get up, Sam," Dean said. He moved to sit on the bed. Sam obviously would go to any lengths to keep him here in their room, so he might as well just give in. He glanced at Sam and then looked away.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.  
  
"You really think I'm a tramp?" Dean asked. That barb stung more than he wanted to admit. Okay, he liked to play the field, some, but he was still discriminating about who he went to bed with. Being called a tramp implied that he would just fuck anything. He sighed. Maybe it looked that way to Sam, who just never seemed to get his head around the idea of a one night stand being fun and acceptable as long as no one got hurt.  
  
"No," Sam replied with a shake of his head. "But he told me I'm not enough for you."  
  
Dean sighed. "Sometimes I think there's a wire loose between your ears and your brain, Sam. How many times have I gotta tell you I don't want anyone else, I want you!" He took a breath. "Do you know how long I waited for you? Do your even have an inkling of how many times I wanted to…?" He looked away. "I used to dream about it-imagine how it would be. I've wanted you since I was sixteen," he murmured, his cheeks flooding with hot color at the confession.  
  
"Oh that's just fucking perverted," Sam gave a brittle laugh. "I was twelve!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Dean closed his eyes as tears burned them, threatening to fall. "I know it's fucked up. I... tried so hard to... to fight it." Dean choked back a sob and Sam moved to sit beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders.  
  
"I didn't mean it that way," Sam said. "It just that-long hair, freckles, pale as a ghost clingy isn't my idea of sexy," he paused and then said. "If Dad had never come home from a hunt back then, I don't think it would have mattered to me, because you were the only person I ever needed."  
  
Dean sniffled, angrily dashing the tears away with the back of his hand. "I've always thought you were beautiful, Sammy. From the day Mom brought you home from the hospital until now." He wiped away more tears. "And then, when I finally get what I wanted all that time. I fuck it up royally!"  
  
"How? What'd you do that was so terrible?"  
  
"When-when you let me touch you, I turned it into something ugly and selfish."  
  
"You beat yourself up for something you think you did to me, and I beat myself up for not being good enough."  
  
"I shoulda made you feel good. You gave me the one thing I wanted most of my life and I treated it like it was nothing!" Tears fell unchecked now.  
  
"Maybe it had to be like nothing," Sam murmured.  
  
"Why? Why do you think that, Sammy?" Dean turned reddened eyes to him. "I was just a selfish asshole thinkin' only of myself-nothin' but what I wanted."

Sam wiped a thumb across his cheek, gathering the tears.  "We could go over who's right and wrong forever, Dean," Sam whispered and Dean looked down, wet eyelashes brushing his cheeks for a moment before he met Sam's eyes again.  
  
"Please, Sam, please you hafta believe me. I wouldn't deliberately set out to hurt you. I'm tired, I'm strung out, I'm-doin' my best to hold things together by a thread. I swear, I didn't want any of this to be this way!"  
  
"If it helps," Sam said. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too, Sammy." Dean pulled his brother into his arms, feeling the tension drain from Sam's body. He closed his eyes, his father's voice whispering across his mind. _If he becomes what he is not, you might have to kill him, Dean_.' Dean sighed. _Please help me_ , he prayed silently. _Help me-I'm so scared and I don't know what to do. Dad, Mom, anyone, if you can hear me, please help me._ He pushed Sam away a little and looked into pain clouded brown eyes. "You look exhausted." Dean patted the bed. "Lie down and I'll rub your back for you."  
  
Sam nodded and climbed onto the bed, lying face down. Dean stretched out beside his brother, laying a hand on Sam's bare skin and began to stroke in gentle circles. Listening to the little sigh Sam let out as he turned his head to face Dean.  
  
"This always made me feel safe," Sam whispered.  
  
"I know." Dean leaned down to brush a kiss across Sam's cheek. "It was the only way to get you to sleep sometimes. Especially if there were thunder storms around.  
  
Sam smiled, his eyelids drooping. "Yeah, or when Dad got drunk."  
  
"Yeah, then too," Dean agreed. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy."  
  
"Yeah," Sam let his eyes slip closed.  
  
"You'll see, it's gonna be okay. Dean-o's here-it's all okay," Dean chanted the words over and over, the way he had when they were kids, alone and afraid at night. He smiled as Sam turned in his sleep, nestling closer to him. Dean laid is arm across Sam's waist, holding him while he slept. He whispered to Sam and stroked his hair when he stirred once or twice, fretting or whimpering keeping the comforting contact between them until he knew that Sam was deeply asleep.  
  
After a while, Dean stirred gently. Slipping out of bed, he paused waiting to see if Sam would wake. He watched his sleeping brother for a moment and then let his breath out slowly. He needed coffee badly. His head was beginning to ache from the fraught emotions of the past hour or so, and from the lack of caffeine. There was a little coffee shop not ten minutes walk from the motel. He and Sam had stopped in there the day before for a well needed coffee before they booked this room. _Muffins_ , Dean thought, _I'll get him blueberry muffins. He loves those!_ Dean headed out the door, taking the room keys with him.  
  
The early morning was quiet and cool, soothing to his jangled nerves after the fight with Sam. Dean walked slowly, breathing the cool air and letting the tension and hurt ease away. He stepped into the café, breathing the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and smiled at the woman behind the counter. "Good morning," he said.  
  
\--  
  
Sam whimpered in his sleep, thrashing a little and muttering unintelligibly. His breathing quickened and he turned onto his back, crying out. "No…no! Dean? Dean! No!"  
  
Sam flung his arms up in front of him as though to ward off a blow and he snapped awake from his nightmare. "No!" He swallowed hard, his eyes wildly searching the room. "Dean!" He'd dreamed that his brother had left him, that the demon had won and that he really wasn't enough to keep Dean satisfied. "Dean?" Sam's voice wavered, edging on panic. "DEAN!"  
  
There was no answer and Sam let out a low keening moan. Dean really had gone. "No." Sam choked on bile. He didn't want to be alone. He hadn't meant to drive Dean away. He loved his brother. He would do anything to please him. "I was too clingy," he moaned. "I pushed him away when I really just wanted to be with him." Sam felt a knife-edged twist of pain in his heart. He rolled out of bed. "It's no use. I'll never be all that he wants." He sobbed. "I have to let him go. I have to…" His eyes fell on Dean's pillow and he reached under it, taking hold of the knife his brother kept there.  
  
Sam stared at the blade in fascination and he began to understand what Dean meant when he spoke of the steel of a knife blade holding some power over him. It was seductive almost, how the blade flashed and gleamed when Sam turned the knife in his hand. He smiled, knowing what he had to do.  
  
Sam got up and walked over to the little dining table in their motel room. He swept one hand across the table clearing it of Coffee cups, take-away containers and napkins and laid his arm on the table. The point of the knife touched his wrist and Sam let out a long sigh of relief as he drew the blade in a deep, welling crimson line down his forearm, opening the vein and watching his blood spill rich and bright across his skin. He closed his eyes and laid his head down on the table, his cheek resting in the spreading pool of blood. "Goodbye, Dean," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you, or someone you know is at risk of suicide, please reach out to your local suicide hotline or consult your doctor.


	5. Trial by Fire

Dean reached into the paper sack he carried on a cardboard tray with the two cups of coffee and snagged a donut, biting into the still warm, doughy treat as he walked back towards the motel. He made a sound of appreciation and smacked his lips, licking powdered sugar away as he swallowed the mouthful. There could be nothing better than fresh donuts with coffee first thing in the morning. He sighed, content, making his way across the parking lot to their room.  
  
Juggling cups, bag and keys, he unlocked the motel room door and pushed it open. The hair at the nape of Dean's neck rose as a chill ran down his spine. Something was very, very wrong. He gagged as the metallic smell of blood mixed with something else, something chillingly familiar, assailed his senses.   
  
"Sammy!" Coffee, donuts, muffins all hit the floor as Dean bolted into the darkened room. Why was it so dark? It was broad daylight outside. Dean blinked to accustom his eyes to the diminished light. What the hell was going on here? Sulfur blood combined to fill the room with a sickening stench that made Dean's stomach heave.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Dean." A gravelly voice, so achingly familiar.  
  
Dean closed his eyes, frozen to the spot.  _That's not Dad_. He thought wretchedly. When he opened his eyes again, he almost wished he hadn't. There was just enough light to see by now, garish, red light that illuminated a scene Dean felt would burn itself into his brain for the rest of his life.   
  
Sam was pinned against the far wall of the room, his arm bleeding profusely from a long, deep gash in his forearm. He was pale, sweating, his pain-darkened eyes staring at Dean in mingled relief and horror.   
  
"Dean," Sam moaned. "Dean, I'm sorry."   
  
One side of Sam's face was covered in blood, but Dean couldn't tell where it was coming from. He sobbed and made to go to Sam, but found he was unable to move.   
  
"Sammy and I were just having a little heart to heart," Dad's voice said. Dean turned his head and looked into the glowing yellow eyes of the demon wearing John Winchester's face.   
  
"Let him go!" Dean growled. "Let him go or…"  
  
"Or what?" The demon tipped its head to one side. "What're you going to do, Dean?" He chuckled, and the sound was so like John's laugh that it made Dean want to scream. "Sammy here invited me in!" The demon's smile vanished and he lifted a hand, sending Dean crashing against a wall. It pointed at the table, and Dean was thrown there, pinned on his back, incapable of moving. A large hunting knife spun from somewhere off the floor and poised itself at Dean's throat. "You can lie there and watch while I rend your precious Sammy limb from limb!"  
  
"No!" Sam yelled. "Leave him out of this. This is between you and me!"  
  
"Sammy." The demon's voice was edged with disappointment. "I really thought by now, you'd realized this was never just between you and me. This has been between me and the Winchester bloodline as a whole since before you were born. Long before." He stepped closer to Sam. "Your family and mine have been at war for a long time, Son. All because one of your ancestors thought that he could possibly hope to destroy us."  
  
The demon patted Sam's cheek. "No, baby-boy. This is not just between you and me. I won't rest until every last Winchester is dead."  
  
"Get your hands off him!" Dean yelled. He struggled against the invisible force holding him down, trying to throw whatever it was off realizing, even as he did so, how futile that was. He'd been here before, helpless in the grip of this same power and he knew he wasn't moving unless the damned thing let him. He screamed his rage and frustration, arching his back. Maybe if he made enough noise, someone, somehow, would help them.  
  
The demon laughed, turning to Dean. "Nice try, Dean-o." Its smile mocked him. "No-one can hear you. You mortals can be so pathetic. No one can hear you, no one can see me, No one can help you. Understand, Dean, this is the end for you and Sam."  
  
"I'll kill you!" Dean yelled. "If you hurt him, I swear to God, I'll kill you. You and all your fucking minions, you hear me?" Dean arched his back with a scream of agony as icy fingers of pain ripped through his body. They tore at him, from his gut all the way into his head and he could do nothing but scream again and again until, mercifully, it stopped, leaving him weak and panting, tears streaming from his eyes.  
  
The Demon turned away from him, looking at Sam. "So, you decided to come home, baby-boy?" He smiled. "You've got it all wrong, Sam…but it doesn't matter anymore. I've won." It sighed. "Your brother was my puppet all along. I lit the fire in his gut that made him want to rape you." Another laugh. "I drove the both of you to your ultimate destruction. Dean-not yet, I still have plans for him." It held a hand out to Sam. "Come on, come home to Daddy and we will watch Dean Self-destruct, together."  
  
"Go to hell," Sam panted. "I'll find my own way."  
  
"Now, Sammy, is that anyway to talk?" The demon stepped closer to him. "Meg's dying to get you home. She's got some special-entertainments lined up for you."  
  
"Oh I'll bet she has," Sam hissed. "Hey, we can all play fuck the demon."  
  
The demon tutted and inclined his head.   
  
"Fuck!" Sam shouted, arching his back, his head slamming back against the wall as he whimpered in pain. Invisible claws tore at him, blood welling from his chest to run down over his body, dripping to the floor. "Stop!" he pleaded, eyes closed, teeth gritted, breathing hard and fast. "Please!"  
  
"I'm getting tired of these games!" The demon growled.  
  
"You've always been a fucking coward," Sam spat. "Pin us down, hurt us. You're afraid to give us a fighting chance!" He groaned as pain shot through him again, but pushed through it. "You had to hurt Dean to stop my Dad because you knew he was gonna fry your demon ass!"  
  
"We end this, here." The demon replied. "Now."  
  
"What, is my soul not enough for you?" Sam asked. "I'm your chosen, remember? One of your freakin' kids!"  
  
"Oh, you're more than enough for me, Sam. But I like to watch your brother suffer." The demon smiled coldly. "I get such a kick out of it. Have you ever noticed, Sam? The way his soul just gets all up in his eyes, sometimes?" Laying a hand over his heart, the demon sobbed mockingly. "It's so heart-rending!"  
  
"Sam!" Dean struggled, growling with frustration. He looked at his brother, silently pleading and their eyes met for a moment before Sam looked away.  
  
"Do you really think Dean gives a fuck if you kill me?" Sam sneered. "You're the one who kept telling me he didn't care, that he didn't love me, that I would never be enough."  
  
"No!" Dean yelled. "That's not…Urgh!" He thrashed as those icy claws returned, closing around his heart while pressure bore down on him, crushing his chest.   
  
"Damn, and I always thought you were so smart," Sam sneered.  
  
"Sam!" A scream, tore from Dean's lips on a wave of agony. He could feel the pain behind Sam's words as though they turned to knives, each one lodging itself in Dean's breast.  
  
"Dean's a hunter," Sam went on. "He doesn't care about anything, or anyone-beyond sending you and all your filthy minions back to hell!"  
  
Dean cried out, arching his back. "Sammy, please!"  
  
"So if you're going to take me with you, let's get it over with." Sam glared at the demon. "Daddy."  
  
"That's where you've got it all wrong, Sammy-boy." The demon shook its head. "The only thing Dean cares about is you. His heart hasn't been in this war for the longest time. All he wants is  _you_  to be safe,  _you_  to be happy,  _you_  to see how much he loves you."  
  
Dean drew a gurgling breath, tasting blood in his mouth, his head reeling, faint with pain. He weakly shook his head, forcing his eyes open. He couldn't give up. Something had to give. He gasped for air, trying to slow his frantically beating heart, trying to think. He heard Sam's voice dimly, taunting the demon, and for a moment the pain let up and he could breathe.  
  
"Please," Dean gasped. "Let him go-let him go. Do what you want to me! Just let Sam alone!"  
  
"Dean, be quiet," Sam said. "Daddy and I are just having a friendly chat."  
  
Dean shook his head. "Look, you got me. I shoulda been in hell." He sobbed. "Please-please, take me!"   
  
Sam stared at his brother through unfocused eyes. Why was Dean telling the demon to take him? Sam was the one it wanted, always had been. It had told him again and again, all his life that some day it would come and take him for its own. Dean couldn't go in his place. That wasn't how this was meant to work. He shook his head, his senses swimming. He'd lost a lot of blood. Soon it would be over. He blinked slowly, his eyes fixed on Dean. Dean, the one person in his life who'd always been there, never wavered, never forsaken him. Now it was Sam's turn to be there for Dean. He looked towards the demon. "I'm ready."  
  
"No!" Dean screamed. "SAMMY?" His eyes were wild with pain and fear. "Sam!" He tore his gaze from Sam to the demon. "Don't kill him!" His voice was rough with pain and grief. "Please. I-I'll do-anything…"  
  
Sam lifted his head, groggily, looking at Dean in disbelief. "Dean, shhh," he mumbled. "I'm…"  
  
"Sam," Dean coughed. "Hold on."  
  
"Leave him alone," Sam said weakly. "You came here for me. Let's get it over with."  
  
"No-no-Sam!"  
  
Suddenly a bright, white light appeared just above Dean's head where he lay on the table. Dean cringed, closing his eyes. He shuddered, waiting for the breath stealing touch of the reaper. He'd felt that before, and knew how it felt. He wasn't afraid, not really. He knew his time would have to come, and if by going now he could save Sam, then he would go willingly. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes.  
  
"I'm not strong enough to hold him for long, Dean," the woman standing over him said. "Sam called him. He called him, Dean."  
  
"Huh!" Dean gasped, "An angel...look, Sam. An angel!" He looked into the glowing blue eyes of the woman. "I'm-finished," he panted. "Just help-Sam."  
  
"Dean, I know you're hurting, but you have exorcise him. Sam can't, he tried to kill himself."  
  
The demon turned to Dean, narrowing his eyes against the light emanating from the spirit standing over him. "Jessica," it hissed. "How did you get in here?"  
  
"Jessica?" Dean looked up at her, recognition dawning as she smiled down at him. He sobbed and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to focus on the words of the exorcism rite his father had drilled into him by rote in his childhood. "Regnae-terr…" His tongue stumbled over the Latin. "Fuck Latin." He groaned in pain.   
  
"I call upon the power of the Almighty Christ." He arched his back as the demon hissed, baring its teeth at the mention of the name of Christ, but he had to push on for Sam's sake. "Son of-argh! Son of the most high God. Spirit of Light-Spirit of life eternal, living water, living water." Dean coughed, drew another shaking breath. "Living word," he panted. "God with-with us." His eyes went to Sam. "God in us, God revealed to us."  
  
"Damn you!" The demon screamed lunging at Dean, but Jessica stepped between them, bracing herself, golden hair flowing in an unfeeling wind. She lifted her head, facing the demon squarely as her robes began to burn.  
  
Dean sobbed, fixing his eyes on Sam as he prayed aloud. "O my Jesus, forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those most in need of thy mercy."  
  
Jessica turned to look at Dean. "He didn't mean to hurt you, he won't, he can't, you know Sam."  
  
"Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to he Holy Spirit," Dean prayed, his voice getting stronger as the force pushing down on him relented. "As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."  
  
Jessica turned to look at Sam one last time and then focused her attention on the Demon.  
  
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," Dean said, louder. Stronger still. He repeated the prayer over and over, the demon and Jess locked in silent conflict next to him. "O my Jesus, forgive us of our sins…" Dean watched Sam slump to the floor at the same moment that he found himself able to move.   
  
He rolled to the side, shielding his eyes as Jessica threw her head back with a scream of rage. The demon seized her and both of them erupted in a brilliant of flame and vanished.   
  
Dean lay on his side, panting for breath, head spinning. He closed his eyes, hearing the soft echo of Jess's voice drift to him from somewhere.  
  
"Thank you," she said.  
  
Dean sobbed quietly.  _Thank you_ , he thought. He groaned, spat blood from his mouth and cursed. "Sam?" He struggled to sit up. "Sam!" Panic rose in him when there was no answer. He could dimly make out Sam's form where he lay on the floor limp as a discarded rag, eyes closed, his face deathly pale.  
  
"Sammy!" Dean half climbed, half tumbled from the table onto the floor and dragged himself to his brother's side. Dean put a hand on Sam's shoulder and let out a sob of relief when the younger Winchester groaned.  
  
Dean struggled to roll his brother onto his back, palming one hand across Sam's cheek. He blinked, tears falling on Sam's face as he tried to wipe the blood away. He moaned, pain surging through him, exhaustion overtaking him. Dean sank down, his head resting on Sam's chest, eyes slipping closed as blackness pressed in on him.  
  
Sam was dimly aware of a sound like hammering. He frowned, trying to make it out. Something pressed on his chest, making breathing difficult. He lifted a hand, weakly pushing at the dead weight pressing on him. "Dean?" he said softly. There was no answer and that insistent hammering noise continued. Sam rolled his head to the side. Someone was knocking at the door, he realized. He smiled. Stroking Dean's hair, he drew a deep breath and with his last ounce of strength called out. "Help us!"  
  
There was a splintering crash and Sam whimpered, thinking for a moment, that the demon had returned. He didn't even know why it had left in the first place. He moved weakly, prepared to at least try to put up a fight. Sam blinked up at the form looming over him. "Don't touch him!" His hand weakly fisted in Dean's hair. "I'll-kill you!"  
  
Ash stared in amazement at the scene that greeted his eyes after he smashed the motel room door in. The room seemed to be awash with blood. Shattered furniture, cups, and other debris littered the floor. The stench of sulfur and blood assailed him. His eyes fell on the Winchester brothers huddled together in a heap on the floor and he shook his head. "Whoa! Heavy scene, dudes!"


	6. Foxhole

Bobby Singer straightened, easing his back against the palms of his hands as he looked down at an unconscious Sam. He shook his head and glanced at Ash. "I've lost count of how many stitches I've put in Winchester hides over the years," he said. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. "It's just damn lucky you got here when you did and managed to stop the bleedin'." He sighed. "Even so, I'm worried. If he doesn't wake in a few hours I'm takin' him to the ER, risks be damned."  
  
Ash nodded looking over at Bobby from where he sat beside Dean. The elder Winchester slept quietly, his chest swathed in white bandages. "Whaddyou reckon was goin' down here?"  
  
"The demon got to 'em somehow," Bobby replied. "I don't know exactly. They had the place well warded." He frowned. "I guess we'll have to wait 'til one or the other comes around and ask 'em."  
  
Getting to his feet, Bobby gestured with his head towards the door. "What they both need now, is rest."  
  
Ash got up and followed Bobby out of the room softly closing the door behind them.  
  
\--  
  
Dean clawed his way through cotton candy. His head swam and he groaned, recognizing the feeling of coming out of a drug induced sleep. He wondered where he was, wondered if the demon had won and then he was suddenly wide awake. "Sammy!"  
  
He struggled to sit up, but fell back with a groan when pain shot through his chest. "Fuck!" Dean froze at the sound of a door opening. He squinted against the light coming through the doorway, trying to make out who was standing there.  
  
"Will ya hold the noise down? Sam's resting and you're supposed to be out as well."  
  
"Bobby!" Relief washed over Dean. He allowed himself to relax. Sinking back against the pillows, he met Bobby's eyes as the hunter came to his bedside. "How did you get here, and…"  
  
Bobby pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. "I drove here, I guess." He smiled at Dean. "Missouri called me a couple days ago and told me to shag ass it here, said you and Sammy were in trouble."  
  
"How did she know?" Dean frowned. "The trouble didn't start till yesterday."

She said some girl named Jessica told her." Bobby shrugged. "I guess knowin' things is what Missouri does, son." He looked into Dean's eyes. "You wanna tell me just what happened?"

  
Dean looked away, letting his breath out on a sigh. "I don't know. Sammy lost it, I guess." He met Bobby's eyes again. "He's gonna be okay, isn't he?"  
  
"He lost a lot of blood," Bobby replied. "I'm worried about him. I won't lie. Ash stopped the bleedin' before I got here, and I managed to stitch him up, but he's not out of the woods yet." Bobby leaned back in his chair. "If he don't wake up soon, I'm takin' him to the hospital."  
  
Dean swallowed hard. "He-he tried to kill himself, Bobby."  
  
"What?" Bobby's voice went up a notch. "Why?"  
  
Sam moaned and both men turned to look at him. He settled again and Bobby turned back to Dean, lowering his voice. "Why would Sammy want to kill himself?"  
  
"I don't know," Dean averted his gaze. What could he tell Bobby.  _I raped him and then tried to turn that into some kind of sick..._ Dean closed his eyes. "I guess things have been a little tense between us."   
  
"A little tense." Bobby stared at him.   
  
"Bobby, I can't tell you more than that." Dean silently prayed that Bobby would drop it. He was almost ridiculously relieved when the door cracked open again and Ash stuck his head into the room.  
  
"Yo, Dean!" Ash grinned broadly and made his way over to the bed, looking suitably abashed when Bobby shushed him, gesturing at Sam. "Hey, sorry, dude." Ash grabbed another chair and pulled it over to Dean's bed and sat down. "How's your ribs?"  
  
Dean glanced down at the swathe of bandages around his chest. "Damn sore," he replied.   
  
"Lucky I remembered how to strap busted ribs," Ash said. "Bobby had his hands full with your brother."  
  
"Bobby says we owe you-for helping Sam," Dean said. "So…"  
  
"It wasn't nothin'," Ash waved him off. "I was pretty freaked when I busted in and found you two though. I was lookin' for ya for a couple of days." He frowned. "Dude, we've got trouble right here in Capitol City."  
  
"Yeah," Dean said. "We kinda noticed." He smiled though, appreciating the fact that if Ash hadn't come looking for them; Sam might have bled out.   
  
"I went to those cabins where y'all were stayin' that last time I called, and the guy there told me that you'd been in a car wreck, and that you left town after that." Ash drew a deep breath, blowing it out between his lips. "I was worried when I couldn't get you on the phone."  
  
"When did you call me?" Dean frowned. "I don't remember any missed calls from your number."  
  
"Well, that'd be because y'answered 'em," Ash said. "Th'only problem was, had a crap connection. I could hear you just fine, but you weren't hearin' my voice."  
  
"You called what, three times?" Dean said. "I thought they were prank calls. Your number didn't show up."  
  
Ash nodded. "I guess someone just didn't want you hearin' what I had to say. So anyway, when I couldn't get you on the phone, I decided to come out here lookin' for you. I must've driven past this motel three times before I spotted your car."  
  
"Huh," Dean said. He winced and shifted position. His ribs were starting to ache something awful.   
  
Bobby reached for something off the bedside table. He handed two pills to Dean and then poured him a glass of water. "Oxycontin," he said. "It'll help you rest." He stood up and put a hand on Ash's shoulder. "Don't you be in here yammerin' for hours, now." He checked on Sam and then left the room.  
  
\--  
  
Sam came around slowly. He felt wrung out, weak, tired-so deathly tired-and sore all over. He groaned in protest against the encroaching pain.  
  
The last thing he remembered was the door crashing open and a figure looming over him where he lay bleeding on the floor. He remembered trying to protect his brother.  And then darkness.   
  
Sam struggled to sit up, heart hammering against his ribs. "Dean!" He sobbed.   
  
"I'm here, Sammy." His brother's voice reached him from the other bed and Sam collapsed back against the pillows.  
  
"You rest, now," Dean soothed. "Bobby and Ash are here, and it's going to be okay. Go back to sleep."  
  
Sam closed his eyes. Tears of relief edged from under his eyelids, soaking into the pillow. There were friends nearby and he and Dean were safe. Dean's voice lulled him and he was asleep again in moments. 


	7. Angels and Demons

The day had worn on into early evening by the time Sam woke again. He felt a little stronger, and he needed the bathroom badly. He sat up, his head spinning a little as he turned to look at the form in the other bed. Dean's eyes were closed, dark lashes sweeping down over his cheeks. His lips, lightly parted showed a glimpse of perfect white teeth behind them and his bandaged chest rose and fell gently with each quiet breath. Dean had never snored. Sam smiled; glad to see his brother alive and safe, if a trifle worse for wear.  
  
Swinging his legs out of bed, Sam stumbled to his feet. Shaky as a newborn colt, he paused a moment to gain his balance before he took a tottering step towards the door. Who knew walking could be such a challenge? By the time he was halfway across the room, he was sweating, panting and wanted to sit down, but there being nothing to sit on he pressed on, reached the door in a staggering rush that had him fetch up against the wood paneling with a thump.  
  
_Okay that was harder than I expected._ Sam leaned against the door for a moment, gasping for breath, and then reached for the doorknob slowly turning it and pulling the door open. He almost fell into the arms of Ash, who was just coming into the room.  
  
Sam didn't resist when Ash grabbed his arm, supporting him to the bathroom.   
  
Back in the bedroom a few minutes later, Sam moved to Dean's bed and settled down beside his sleeping brother. He didn't want to be away on the other side of the room. Sleeping in separate beds had become foreign. Sam wanted to feel the warmth of Dean's body next to him if he should waken from a nightmare. He needed to be able to reach and touch and know that Dean was with him and would protect him.  
  
He lay quietly at Dean's side, eyes closed but awake, just listening to the whisper of Dean's breath as it came and went between his parted lips. "Dean," Sam whispered into the darkness. "Dean-Dean," He made the name into a mantra, repeated and repeated, clinging to the solid familiarity of four letters that made one small word, but comprised a world of life and love and safety. Still chanting his brother's name, Sam drifted to sleep.  
  
The first glimmers of dawn edged the curtains and birds called outside when Sam and Dean finally stirred.  
  
"Hey, babe." Dean smiled at his brother. "When did you get here?"  
  
"I got up during the night for the bathroom," Sam replied quietly. "I didn't want to stay over there." He yawned, stretching his aching muscles, feeling a little less bone weary than he had the night before.   
  
Dean sighed, carding his fingers through Sam's hair. "You okay?"  
  
"Been better," Sam said. "How about you?"  
  
"About the same, I guess." Dean pulled Sam in for a kiss and they were quiet for a time. "Hey, the phone calls before Miriam got a hold of me-the ones where no one said anything," Dean said. "That was Ash. He tried three times to call and tell us there was demonic activity goin' down in Minnesota, and each time, he says he could hear me, but I couldn't hear him. That's why he came out here."  
  
"Lucky for us he did," Sam said. "Why couldn't you hear him? Think it was Miriam?"  
  
"I think someone was blocking him," Dean replied.  
  
"I guess it makes sense." Sam sighed.   
  
Dean nodded. "I swear I'm gonna track that demonic bastard and his family and I won't rest till they're all dead."  
  
"Not until your ribs have healed," Sam said. He rolled onto his side, looking into Dean's eyes.  
  
"I know. I doubt Bobby's gonna let me get on my feet for a few days anyway," Dean said. "He's already been in here growling and bitchin' me out while you were asleep."  
  
"Maybe he'll let me and Ash take a look around," Sam said.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Dean replied. "It'll give him time to kick the sense he wants to into me." He added with a small grin.  
  
"We could try and find out if there've been any others in this area, y'know, others like me?"  
  
Dean nodded as Sam turned over and slipped out of bed. "Sam?"  
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Do you remember anythin' that happened last night?"  
  
"I remember feeling tired of this whole thing, Dean," Sam said with a sigh. "Kept thinkin' about that silver knife you got from Dad. The one with the mother of pearl handle? You keep and edge on that knife sharper than any other."  
  
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked up, meeting Sam's eyes.   
  
"I just thought-God and hour tops and it would all be over," Sam murmured.

  
"You tried to kill yourself, Sammy." Pain thickened Dean's voice. "The demon got in here. He had us both right where he wanted us." Dean shivered. "If it hadn't been for Jess…"  
  
"I've always heard that someone comes for you at the end," Sam said. "But I saw Dad, not Jess."  
  
"Dad wasn't here, Sammy. The Demon had Dad's face, but it wasn't Dad. And Jess didn't come to take you, Sam. She came to save you-to save us."  
  
"Why didn't she talk to me then, Dean? She was my girlfriend, she would have talked to me. I know Jess." Sam shook his head.  
  
"I dunno, Sammy. She said she wasn't strong. She was holdin' him off of you and she said I had to exorcise him, cause you couldn't-cause you called him here…"  
  
"I called him? Are you fucking mad?"  
  
"She was so beautiful, Sammy. I thought, when I saw her, I thought she was an angel." Dean looked up at him, pushing himself up to sit against the bed head. "Jess said that you called the demon when you tried to commit suicide."  
  
"You don't believe in angels, Dean!" Sam shook his head again. "No-no that's not true, there has to be a ritual. I know, 'cause Dad had me get stuff for him in the hospital…you need a ritual to call a demon. I didn't call him, Dean. I swear!"  
  
"Sam, you know the rules of the game. You know how these things work. When you tried to kill yourself, you opened up hell. You turned it loose on us." Dean met his brother's eyes. "Look, I'm not accusing you and I'm not blaming and I-I know you must've been hurtin' to even think of…" Dean struggled to get up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "And it's all my fault! I wasn't watchin' out for you. Dad told me I hadda watch out for you and I-I failed you, Sammy."  
  
"No! Don't!" Sam looked at his bandaged arm. "Stop it! I can't-Jess what happened to Jess? If she was here-what happened to Jess, Dean?"  
  
Swallowing hard, Dean reached a hand for his brother, but Sam stepped away from his touch. "She-she faced him down while I was saying the prayers," Dean said softly as tears welled to his eyes. "He took her, Sam. And that's my fault, too. 'Cause, I prayed last-last night. The first time in years, I prayed and asked if there's anyone out there to help me, 'cause I'm scared and I don't know what to do anymore."  
  
"No!" Sam shook his head vehemently. "No, you're lying, Dean! He didn't, he can't NO! Not Jess. No way, Dean!"  
  
"Ask Bobby," Dean said as his shoulders slumped in defeat. The denial in Sam's face was painful to see. He closed his eyes. "He knows. It's why he's even here." Dean bit his lip and then went on. "Jess went to Missouri and told her we were in trouble-a whole day before it even happened and Missouri sent Bobby here."  
  
"I don't need to ask Bobby! You don't see angels, Dean, and you don't fucking pray! You're mistaken, it wasn't Jess. You were dreaming. Don't you think if Jess had been here, she would have said something to me?"  
  
"She did, Sam!"  
  
"No-no. Fuck, no! This isn't happening. Mom, Dad, Jess?" Sam swung away from Dean, tearing his hands through his hair. "You sonnovabitch!" He yelled. "I'm coming for you-you hear me? I'm the flaw in your fucking plan and I'm gonna hunt you down!"  
  
"Sam, please!" Dean heaved himself to his feet, taking an unsteady pace towards his brother.  
  
"What the hell is going on in here?" Bobby burst into the room. He looked from one Winchester to the other. He pointed at Dean. "Bed!" then, he turned to Sam. "You, out here with me!"


	8. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once those two idjits actually _talk_ to each other.

Bobby led Sam into the adjoining room and gestured to the small table. "Siddown, Sam."  
  
Sam kept his eyes downcast as he moved to the table and took a seat. He glanced up when Bobby thrust a beer at him and shook his head.  
  
"Drink it!" Bobby insisted.  
  
"Look, just gimme the bottle of holy water. I'll fucking drink _that_."  
  
Bobby sighed. "I sure as hell need a drink, and I don't like drinkin' alone." He set the beer in front of Sam. "There's no holy water in these. They're yours and Dean's." He popped the lid off his bottle and took a long draft of it.  
  
"What, you didn't bring your own special mix?" Sam smirked. "I'm surprised."  
  
"Wasn't time," Bobby replied. "Missouri told me I hadda get here before it was too late for you two. As it was, Ash got here first.  I woulda been too late." He took another pull of his beer. "You wanna tell me what you two boys have been up to to bring every demon in creation down on your asses?"  
  
  
Sam just stared at him for a moment. "What, you mean you and Ash and Missouri don't know? Hell, and here I was looking for answers."  
  
Bobby met his eyes with a level stare. "I don't hafta be psychic to read the atmosphere between you two," he said. "Sammy, I don't know what's going on with you and Dean, but you're pullin' enough negative energy to open up your own circle of hell right here."  
  
"It's like I told Dean, but he doesn't believe me anymore than you will. The rules have changed," Sam replied.  
  
"Changed, how?"  
  
"We're not hunting them anymore, Bobby, they're hunting us."  
  
Bobby nodded. "What's changed between you and Dean, Sam?" he asked.  
  
Sam laughed and shook his head.  
  
"I'm serious, boy."  
  
"Yeah, like I'm gonna tell you. Fuck! As if we aren't in enough trouble already."  
  
"I've heard a lot in my time," Bobby said with a small grin. "Don't have the energy for gettin' excited about it. If you want me to help you and Dean, then I need to know the whole story."  
  
"We had a fight. We fell out. I'm tired, Bobby-tired that he has to watch me twenty-four-seven, tired that it's bringing him down- _tired_. That's all."  
  
"Yeah, and the physical side of things has fallen through the bottom." Bobby met Sam's eyes with a look that was at once challenging and sympathetic. "You think you're the first pair of hunters to get into somethin' like this? So you're brothers too. Ain't _that_ a shame!"  
  
Sam's head came up with a jerk. "Ellen. God dammit she promised me…that's none of your fucking business!"  
  
Bobby leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "The hell with Ellen she didn't tell me nothin'. I've known you boys since you were knee high!" He leaned back, scowling at Sam. "And you keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to me, boy! I might not be as young as I was, but I'm still man enough to take you down!"  
  
Sam swallowed an angry retort and fixed his eyes on a point somewhere beyond the Bobby's shoulder. His cheeks burned with shame and his jaw worked as he fought to control his temper. He didn't doubt for one moment that Bobby would follow up his words with actions if he pushed him.   
  
"Sam," Bobby said after a moment. "These things happen in this life. Huntin', killin', we all know how it is. Don't mess around with me, and don't feel y'need to be ashamed." He reached to put a hand on the younger man's shoulder when Sam closed his eyes to hold back threatening tears.  
  
"We've been,,, together a few months," Sam said. "I told Ellen-actually, she already knew."  
  
"Look, you're cooped up with the same person twenty-four-seven. He's the only one you can talk to, the only one you can let close to you." Bobby's eyes grew distant and he nodded. "Yeah, we all know how it happens."  
  
"Fuck," Sam muttered. "Why don't we just wear a fucking neon sign?"  
  
"You're not the first hunters to have this happen. You won't be the last." Bobby leaned close again. "But it changes things," he said. "The rules _have_ changed because you and Dean have changed."  
  
"So the demon is after our asses because Dean is fucking me?" Sam gave a small, bitter laugh.  
  
"Sam, just shut up and listen, will ya?"  
  
"Yeah, that sounds about right. The Winchester boys, the result of John Winchester driven half out of his head hunting something he could never beat."  
  
Bobby pushed his chair back and got to his feet, his eyes flashing with anger. "Don't you bring your Daddy down to me, Sammy! It'll be the last thing you do."  
  
Sam drew Bobby a dirty look, but he clamped his mouth shut, lowering his gaze to stare at the bottle between his hands. There was silence for a few uncomfortable moments before Bobby spoke again.  
  
"Okay, here's the thing. This relationship with your brother is what's causing your problem, and before you fly off half-cocked, no. You don't have to give it up. What you have to do is decide if this is what you want, and if you decide it is, then that's that. You trust each other one-hundred percent. You watch out for each other one-hundred percent. You love each other, one-hundred percent. This can be your greatest strength, or it can be your greatest weakness. It can save you, or it can destroy you."  
  
"Yeah, well there's just one problem with that plan." Sam kept his eyes on his beer. "You see, my big brother hurt me, and he keeps beatin' himself up about it and it doesn't matter what I do or say." He looked up. "We have always looked out for each other. Fuck Dean's Superman, Batman and Spiderman all rolled into one. I trust him with my _life_."  
  
"Till now," Bobby said softly. "Now, you won't believe a word he says about anything, you're at each other's throats non-stop and you won't forgive him, Sam. That's all he wants from you - and yes, I have talked to Dean. He's a blind fool for telling you what happened with Jess and everything else the other day, but I couldn't make him not tell you." Bobby sighed. "Nobody makes a Winchester do anything."  
  
"No. 'No-one makes a Winchester do anything'…and I won't forgive him?" Sam shook his head. "I forgave him as soon as it was over! He won't fucking forgive _himself_!"   
  
"You don't sound very much like someone who's let it go. Forgive means let go, Sam." Bobby took a mouthful of his beer.  
  
"You have no idea." Sam shook his head.  
  
"Dean says he feels the anger pourin off of you all day and night … I'm thinking he's right." Bobby let his breath out with a sigh. "I don't have a brother by blood, Sam. I had a brother by choice once." He paused. "I know what it's like to be raped."  
  
Sam flinched, Sat back in his chair, his arms crossing defensively across his chest. "I just hate being handled with kid gloves," Sam said. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the bedroom door. "He behaves as if he thinks I'll  break if he touches me."  
  
"You're mad at him, Sam. You wish like hell you could hate him. You wish you could walk away and forget him. You wanna smash his face in sometimes - a lot of times, but damn it all, you love him mixed up in all of that and it's eatin' you alive."  
  
"If I can't let it go, it's because he won't let me!"  
  
"Sam," Bobby said softly. "Tell me something. If this situation were reversed, if you were the one that raped Dean and he was as angry and torn up about it as you are now, would you even begin to know how to help him let it go?"  
  
Sam pushed to his feet, pacing the floor. He glared at Bobby and then lifted the beer bottle to his lips, draining the last of it before he spun and launched the bottle at the bedroom door with all the force he could muster.  
  
Bobby flinched, but he didn't relent. "That boy screamed so loud for help that it was heard in the spirit-realm, but you can't hear him." He paused, drew a deep breath and then went on. "This is hard for me to say, Sam, and it's gonna be harder for you to hear…"  
  
"Don't say it then." Sam turned pain filled eyes to him.  
  
Bobby shook his head. "Nice try but no dice. You're gonna hear me out. You're so tied up in yourself that you can't see your brother is dyin' right in front of your eyes. Stop apologizing, Sam. If you're sick of it then stop it and start telling him you forgive him and keep tellin' him until he believes ya."  
  
"How many times, Bobby, how many times? I tell him over and over and for a while things are OK. Until I need him to make the first move and he can't and we end up right back where we started with me saying I'm sorry. This isn't just down to me, and I'm so fucking tired of hearing that _I'm_ the one who has to let go. _I'm_ the one that looks into his eyes and sees all the hate he has for himself...have you any idea how hard it is to see someone you love, with all that inside him?"  
  
"No one said it's gonna be easy, Sam, and I know that'seasy for me to say. I do know how hard it was for me to let go, and forgive the man who hurt me." Bobby looks up, meeting Sam's eyes. "But I had to learn that this kinda thing, this wound is where they'll hit you every time. They'll use it against ya. You both hafta do whatever it takes to heal this, Sam. I've told Dean the same. He can't forgive himself until he truly believes you forgive him. It's as simple as that."  
  
Sam let his breath out with a sigh and moved towards the bedroom door, his hand resting lightly on the door frame. He looked back at Bobby as if seeking reassurance. "Dean said the demon took Jess." Sam murmured. "He told me to ask you... he said that you knew."  
  
"Sounded to me more like Jess gave herself for you," Bobby said. "Don't waste that, Sam."  
  
Sam let the tears spill freely down his cheeks. "He's not getting Dean, too. I won't let him take Dean."  
  
"I hope not." Bobby gave him a sad smile. "Get in there. Talk to him. Kid's probably shit scared by now."  
  
"Nothing scares Dean." Sam shook his head.  
  
"Don't be so sure of that."  
  
Sam turned the door handle and stepped through into the bedroom.  
  
\--  
  
Sam made his way across the bedroom and sat on the bed next to his brother. "Do you need anything? Painkillers?"  
  
Opening his eyes, Dean looked up at Sam. "You could ask Ash if he's got any Pot," he grinned and shook his head. "Naw, I'm all right." He let his gaze slide away. "Bobby kick your ass?"  
  
"We-talked." Sam shrugged.  
  
"Huh! He kicked it." Dean looked into Sam's eyes for a second and then his gaze flickered away. "How many people you think know about us?"  
  
"I dunno, all the ones that matter, I guess." Sam watched the frown crease Dean's brow. "Dean, I don't know where we go from here, and that's the truth."  
  
"Me neither," Dean replied. Slowly, he pushed himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. "I'm scared, Sammy. I'm scared of losin' you, of bein' left alone…" Dean bit his lip. "I'm scared that we won't be able to work this out."  
  
"I don't know what to do. Bobby says I'm blaming you for what happened and yea, I guess there are times I do…times when you won't touch me because I tense up a bit." He looked into his brothers hazel eyes. "There are times I just need you to keep right on touching me but you back off."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sammy."  
  
"I end up apologizing and trying to turn myself into something I'm not so you feel better about-hell-might as well lay my cards on the table. I try to turn myself into something you wouldn't think twice about fucking-some faceless trick."  
  
"The last thing I ever wanna do is hurt you again, Sammy." He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. "I don't want some faceless, nameless trick. I want _you_." Tears welled to Dean's eyes. "I want us! I've _been_ a nameless trick. I don't want you to be that."    
  
"Dean, I need you to trust me. Do you think you could do that?"  
  
"I do trust you, Sam."  
  
"If I tense up, I need you to move past that. I need you to be like you would if the whole thing never happened."  
  
Dean nodded. "I can do that, if you - talk to me, Sam. Tell me that it's okay to keep goin'."  
  
"I never once blamed you for what happened. I felt dirty and ashamed after because you wouldn't touch me…It wasn't really about what happened that night." Sam took hold of Dean's hand. "I'll talk. I might not say the words but I'll always want you to make love to me, Dean."  
  
"I never meant to make you think I didn't love you anymore. I was just scared."  
  
"Bobby says it's what's letting them hunt us, the friction between us is giving them an opening."  
  
"Yeah," Dean said. "He's right. I've heard that before. Jeez even that kid, Michael we met hunting that cat knew that."  
  
Sam nodded. "The other hunters are sure to find out as well," he said.  
  
"It's possible that other hunters could use that to track us." Dean looked into Sam's eyes. "It has to stop, babe."  
  
"As soon as you're fit, we need to get out of here."  
  
"We will, Sammy, and when I am fit and we get out of here, on our own again…" He pulled Sam closer so that their lips were only inches apart. "…I'm gonna give you a first time you'll never forget. We can't go back and start over, but we can start fresh."  
  
Sam nodded. "This case…we need to let it go. Move North maybe. We can't save everyone."  
  
"Yeah, okay," Dean said. He put a hand on the back of Sam's neck, pulling him in to kiss him. He smiled against his brother's lips. "Missed you, babe."  
  
"I've been right here, the whole time," Sam whispered.  
  
"I know." Dean winced and sucked in his breath with a hiss of pain. One hand went to his ribs, rubbing across the bandages.  
  
"You should rest." Sam helped Dean to ease back down against the pillows and then stretched out beside him. "Get some sleep. I'll stay here." He leaned in, careful of Dean's injured ribs and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"God, all I wanna do is sleep," Dean murmured. "Love you, Sammy."  
  
Sam rested his head against Dean's shoulder and closed his eyes. _I'll get you out of there, Jess_ , he thought. _You and Dad, and Mom - I don't know how, but I know there's a reason I'm the way I am, and when I find out what it is - I'll get you out._


End file.
